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Trethinville (D
The forest canopy suddenly parts, and you see clear sky above. A field opens before you, dotted with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tree stumps, many of them overgrown with moss, giving the landscape an unnatural, lumpy shape. It is obvious that these trees were clear-cut by man-kin, giving several hundred feet of unobstructed view to the wide ring of low wooden wall and square fortifications straight ahead. Without the forest canopy to provide shade, the sun beats down unabated. After spending so many days in the tangled dark wood, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to this midsummer daylight. Wheat, the bright white glare bothers you, in particular, and you find yourself squinting and shading your brow. The air here is stagnant and humid, quickly bringing sweat to your collars and brows. Looking to your left, out over the River Freyeau which runs straight through the town ahead, you see the shimmer of heat-mirage on the water's surface -- punctuated only by mosquitos and occasional logs floating south, downriver, toward lumber camps outside the town's south wall. Thin threads of smoke rise from behind the wall ahead -- dozens of hearthfires -- and you smell the familiar scent of civilization on the air, a surprising contrast to the thick green woods behind you. Cookfires, tanners, and perhaps a blacksmith's forge or two. Indeed, as you approach the walled town, you hear the distant clang-clang of hammer and anvil ring through the air, along with the faint whinny of stabled horses. Near the wall, logs sharpened to pikes and driven into the ground at steep angles form a bristling defensive perimeter (against what, you do not know) and you spot unevenly equipped longbowmen slowly patrolling atop the low log walls. You have reached the Jeceau frontier outpost of Trethinville-on-Freyeau -- or, as everyone who is not Jeceau would call it: Trethinville. A gate of heavy logs sits open along the south wall, and as you approach, you see inside to the town ahead. The streets are rutted mud, without a single paving stone in sight. The buildings are log-and-shingle, many of them raised on wooden platform foundations supported by stilts. The few structures not on stilts, or made from brown mud bricks, are all, to varying degrees, sunken into the bog -- some of them all the way to the roofline and now abandoned. The leather-clad gate guards stop you at the gate. To them, you are just another band of foreigners passing through on your way to somewhere else. Judging by their hodgepodge armor and weaponry, without any insignia of rank, and their lax, undisciplined posture in the midsummer heat, it doesn't look like these men could stop you from entering Trethinville. Nonetheless, they demand you pay a toll of 5 silver per person to enter. Do you pay? (If the party pays, the guards will immediately charge the party an extra 5 silver per person to bring their weapons inside. If questioned, the guards will claim it is Governor's orders. If the party pays, the guards will permit the party to enter, but they will stop Fenri and charge him 5 silver more, for being a half-orc. If the party surrenders their weapons, the guards will immediately secretly move the weapons to Mr. Bundy's Private Island.) There is very little activity in the streets at this hour -- just the occasional local sloshing this way or that. You also see what looks like traveling families -- refugees -- huddled around covered wagons parked in alleys and tucked behind buildings off the main roads. Canvas canopies stretch down from the wagon-tops, drawn taut and staked into the ground, turning the parked vehicles into tents and temporary homes. Some of the wagons have begun to sink into the mud -- some all the way down to their axles -- giving you the strong impression that they've been parked here like this for a long time. Months, possibly years. Everyone you see is filthy, with tangled hair, threadbare clothes, and mudstained elbows. Many folks don't even have shoes. The voices you hear are tired and somber, in a wide range of accents. Despite Trethinville ostensibly being an outpost of the Jeceau Empire, you hear Jeceau, Bruhinnen, Feldhaslen, Holy Thlossian, Dwarven, Elven, Gnomish, and even a few Ashenzi accents. A barefooted young Tabaxi in muddy rags lounging by the gate notices you as you enter. His furry black ears perk up, and you see a glint of curiosity in his bright green eyes. He eagerly approaches. (Introduces himself as Talks to Strangers, and offers to show the party around Trethinville, in exchange for coin and perhaps a meal) Locations in Trethinville: Governor's House Home of Governor Gael Lessairde, son of Francis Lessairde, cousin of Jeceau High Counselor Grenthorne Golumiere. Ever since the Lessairdes replaced Governor Tessereau about two years ago, the people of Trethinville have been pretty much left to their own devices. The Governor and his Jeceau contingent keep to the immediate vicinity of the Governor's walled compound. A private mercenary force, called The Boots, now guards and runs most of the town. (Rumor: the Governor is courting Svetalina Hohenzorn-Svebecic of Murr, cousin of Prince Fox) The Snapping Turtle Tavern The best tavern in town. A popular spot for travelers passing through, and a great place to get word about events outside Treth. Whereas most buildings in Trethinville have thatch or shingled roofs, the roof here is the top half of a single, unbelievably massive hollow turtle shell, propped up on stone masonry atop a slightly tilted, gradually sinking slate foundation. The proprietor, Jerri, is opinionated, but she runs a fine establishment. Jerri is a one-legged Forest Gnome who uses crutches to hop around, but she is very quick behind the bar. Her daughter, Julie, runs the stables and is in some financial trouble, but you didn't hear that from me. Jerri lost her leg to a troll. Patrons: # A tough-looking Gnome woman in good-quality leather armor is knocking back whiskeys like a Dwarf. She has short-cropped purple hair and sharp, peaked eyebrows that point several inches past the sides of her face. She wears a green coat over her armor, and she has a shortsword sheathed at her side. Her name is Virginia Pix. She is a member of the Boots, and a guard on Mr. Bundy's Island. She is offputting at first, but she will engage in drinking and debauchery. If she likes you, she will invite you back to her place for the evening. In her bedroom, which is just a curtained-off area of her home with disarrayed sheets and pillows on the floor, she will pull a cord revealing an array of torture implements, whips, chains, and what looks like a hinged wooden stockade, with holes big enough for your neck and wrists. Spending the night with her will result in no rest and 1 level of exhaustion. Also in her home are keys to Mr. Bundy's house. # A beat-up Wood Elf man with a bruised eye, swollen almost completely shut, and a badly swollen lip. He is struggling to drink his beer without it dribbling down his chin. He seems frustrated. His name is Carric Goltorah. He was badly beaten in a pit fight at the Swamp Tangler, and was lucky to escape with his life. He saw a man die in the fight. Those Tazitan are insane. # The group of adventurer's from the random river encounter, if not encountered previously. They are hostile, and will contrive to rob a PC if bothered. ## Champion: Warren. ## Champion: Vanthamra ## Swashbuckler: Jack Swagger. ## Evoker: Brimm. ## Archer: Tuck. ## War Priest: Ilizar. # A dirty Halfling man, with an elk-hide cloak and a dead skunk on his head for a hat, sipping milk at the bar. It looks like there might be animal dung deliberately caked into his cloak. They call him Skunkface. He is a trapper who knows the surrounding woods. He hates money, and pays for his drinks with animal teeth and bits of whittled wood. He also hates Elves, and grumbles about the Ardent if pressed. If you give him trinkets, he will answer questions about the forest. # Two Human Commoners: Thierre, a leatherworker. Monbaire, a thatcher. # A human river ferry sailor: Hessaude. Rumors: # Governor Gael Lessairde is courting Svetalina Hohenzorn-Svebecic of Murr. # An Ardent company passed through town recently. They left on a riverboat, heading upriver. # Care-Taker Heddard Dumwitty of the Care-Taker's Lilly was kicked out of the Snapping Turtle last night, just after midnight. He was so drunk, he pissed on the barstool in the corner. It smelled so bad that Jerri had to have the barstool burned. # There's no way any racing turtle will ever beat Mr. Bundy's Limbsnapper. Mr. Bundy's handlers feed Limbsnapper a special brew of adrenaline-boosting oils before every race. # Some say Tazitan tattoos are enchanted, and they enhance the Tazitan's abilities in battle. That explains why they are so strong and fast. # If you're looking to lose a lot of money very fast, just ask for a "Fisherman's Special" at Bodger's Skiffs and Cargo. You'll see what I mean. Julie's Stables Here the party can stable and buy horses, saddles, carts, and such. The selection is very poor. Julie is a Forest Gnome with brown skin and dark brown hair. She had a gambling problem, and will make wagers at every opportunity. She is in financial trouble and will probably have to deed the stable to Mr. Bundy to settle her gambling debts. She foolishly wagered the stables on Old McSneezy, a 50-to-1 longshot in the upcoming Turtle Race. She thought 50-to-1 meant 50-to-1 chance of winning, not 50-to-1 odds against. Old McSneezy belongs to Heddard Dumwitty, the town's disgraced Care-Taker. The party can help Julie by helping Old McSneezy win the Turtle Race or by destroying Julie's contract with Mr. Bundy. To destroy the contract, the party must infiltrate Mr. Bundy's Private Island. The Care-Taker's Lilly Trethinville's Care-Taker, Heddard Dumwitty, spends more time at the taverns or passed-out in the streets than he spends at his floating shop. Heddard is an obese nor-folk (goliath) with a tangled black beard, streaked with grey and stained with soup and vomit. His shop, the Lilly, resembles a bizarre pet store or menagerie. It is full to the ceiling with stacked wicker cages containing hundreds of birds, creating a constant cacophony of screeches, tweets, and chirps. The whole place smells like bird shit. Tiny brown lizards and rats roam free through the shop, but they know better than to stray into the birdcages. Heddard will make half-hearted efforts to sell various random, useless birds to the party, but he will give up easily if the party doesn't show interest. Heddard also owns Old McSneezy, a giant racing turtle, which he keeps in a half-submerged chamber accessible through a trapdoor in the floor of his shop. Old McSneezy is in poor health and is a 50-to-1 longshot to win the upcoming Turtle Race. Mr. Bundy's Private Island Wigglepeen Bundy is an entrepreneurial Gnome who owns a large private island compound near the center of Trethinville. He is a former mercenary and leader of The Boots, the mercenary company that now protects most of Trethinville. With the Jeceau Empire hopelessly mired in civil war, The Boots effectively run the town. They extract protection fees from every business and charge tolls to travelers passing through. Mr. Bundy is very private and keeps his first name a tightly-guarded secret. He has been known to have men killed for speaking his first name. His island is heavily guarded, even moreso than the Governor's House. Moreso than the entire outer perimeter of Trethinville, in fact. According to rumor, the perimeter of the island is also lined with magical and mechanical traps Mr. Bundy runs an underground casino in a shipping warehouse at Bodger's Skiffs and Cargo. He also runs Turtle Races at the Track. Mr. Bundy's prize giant racing turtle, Limbsnapper, wallows in a lush grotto under the island. Limbsnapper is a 3-to-2 favorite to win the upcoming race, and it is trained to kill any giant racing turtle (and its riders) that get in its way. Bundy hires his best, most trusted members of The Boots to ride Limbsnapper in the races. The Shaded Market A canopied bazaar of vendors selling everything from basic necessities, to pillaged luxuries brought downriver from the Jeceau Empire, to imported oddities brought upriver from Tazitan Territory. Prices are inflated (2x), but partymembers can spend downtime here to procure random magic items. Thlossians from out of town might be shocked to see a few tattooed Tazitan wandering among the patrons of the market. Parked in an out-of-the-way corner of the market is an unassuming wooden gypsy wagon, parked on a creaky platform of wooden planks to keep its wheels from sinking into the ground. The wagon is painted with a faded mural of mushroom fields on one side, and there is a portable step-stool placed in front of the wagon's only door. The faded sign over the door is easy to miss: Ilga's Antiquities. The Swamp Tangler Much to the shock of any Thlossians who are not familiar with Trethinville, the northernmost island of the town belongs to a Tazitan tribe called the Daaj't'k'tizh ("B*tch-Kissers") led by Izil Kaitaen Iventez. The "Daaj" live in peace with the Thlossians of Trethinville, but they do not pay tribute to The Boots. It is clear that the Daaj are numerous and strong enough to overthrow the town if they wanted to, but they mostly keep to their small island. There are no homeless or refugees here, because Thlossian travelers are frightened of the Tazitan. This district is quiet and seemingly empty during the day, but comes alive at night. The center of the Tazitan district is The Swamp Tangler, a rough tavern known for its brutal fighting pit. The tavern is loud, rowdy, and packed with the most diverse cross-section of kin you've ever seen. Man-kin of all colors, tieflings, elf-kin, dark elf-kin, tabaxi, half elves, lizardfolk... even a broad-shouldered, towering triton. Almost all of them show prominent, visible tattoos in every color, although thin, intricate henna-style tattoos seem most common. Many of the tattoos shimmer and luminesce with faint colored light, reminiscent of Master Golgoro's tattoos. Many of the patrons also show visible battle scars -- one woman even has an iron claw for a hand. In the corner, a Tazitan dark elf-kin tattooist named Ibriex offers tattoos to anyone with enough money who proves worthy. Izil Kaitaen Iventez can be found here. Ibriex's Tattoos: # 20g + 5p per tattoo. Ibriex turns the platinum to dust using a Coin of Consumption. Then she imbues her tattoo ink with the platinum dust. Roll 1d20 to determine the location: ## Left hand ## Right hand ## Left ankle/foot ## Right ankle/foot ## Left lower arm ## Right lower arm ## Left upper arm ## Right upper arm ## Left leg ## Right leg ## Left shoulder (front) ## Right shoulder (front) ## Left shoulder (back) ## Right shoulder (back) ## Chest ## Back ## Neck ## Left side of the face ## Right side of the face ## A private spot # Roll 1d12. On a 12, the tattoo is randomly enchanted. Roll 1d100. ## 1-10: +1 STR ## 11-20: +1 DEX ## 21-30: +1 CON ## 31-40: +1 INT ## 41-50: +1 WIS ## 51-60: +1 CHA ## 61-65: +1 STR, +1 to ability score of your choice ## 66-70: +1 DEX, +1 to ability score of your choice ## 71-75: +1 CON, +1 to ability score of your choice ## 76-80: +1 INT, +1 to ability score of your choice ## 81-85: +1 WIS, +1 to ability score of your choice ## 86-90: +1 CHA, +1 to ability score of your choice ## 91-99: +1 to two ability scores of your choice ## 100: +1 to all ability scores Bodger's Skiffs and Cargo Hidden backroom casino run by The Boots. Ask to buy a "Fisherman's Special." Those with coin may go here to place bets on the giant turtle races. Games at Mr. Bundy's Casino: Bodger's Bones: 1) Each player antes up; 2) Each player rolls 3d6; 3) Go around the table, each player can choose to "stand" or "roll;" 4) If player exceeds 21, player busts out; 5) Highest total after one go-around wins. Roulette: 1) Players pick a number between 1 and 36; 2) Roll 1d36; 3) Pays 35-to-1. Betting on the Turtle Races: Limbsnapper pays 2-to-1; Green Lightning pays 10-to-1; Old McSneezy pays 50-to-1. The Track Site of the giant turtle race.